


making it better for whoever comes after

by RyDyKG



Series: Insouciant [4]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: AU of an AU, Accidental Child Acquisition, Adopted Children, Children, Father's Day, Fatherhood, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Happy TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrids, Light Angst, Light Self-Esteem Issues, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Names, POV Second Person, Parent TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Protective TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo is a Good Friend, Temporary Character Death, but you should, listen 2nd pov can be good, you all just won’t give it a try
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyDyKG/pseuds/RyDyKG
Summary: You walk into the Nether with five invisibility potions in your inventory, wearing gold boots and diamond everything else, with a diamond pickaxe and axe gleaming violet with enchantments, and a determination to get in and get out without running into anyone.You walk out of the Nether with five empty bottles, a half-broken enchanted Netherite pickaxe, no axe, and a little blaze-hybrid clutched under your arm.(Or: Raising a child when you are traumatised and inexperienced, but wanting to make sure your child will be happy, and all that entails.)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF) & Original Character(s), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) & Original Character(s)
Series: Insouciant [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061870
Comments: 58
Kudos: 690
Collections: Completed stories I've read, Found family to make me feel something





	making it better for whoever comes after

**Author's Note:**

> hello welcome to another episode of ‘kg procrastinates on her actual ongoing work and writes a ton of flowery oneshots instead’, this time with the addition of dadinnit. no update for soundless chatter for today, but you get this instead!
> 
> I’m supposed to be working on another fic about antarctic prince fundy. but uh, as you can see, well...
> 
> but hey! writer’s envy + procrastination aside, you readers get a fic about dadinnit! in 2nd person pov, but still, it can be good!

You walk into the Nether with five invisibility potions in your inventory, wearing gold boots and diamond everything else, with a diamond pickaxe and axe gleaming violet with enchantments, and a determination to get in and get out without running into anyone.

You walk out of the Nether with five empty bottles, a half-broken enchanted Netherite pickaxe, no axe, and a little blaze-hybrid clutched under your arm.

It is an accident.

You found a fortress, and unexpectedly, it only has one blaze hive. You sit, and wait, and when two blazes come out, you ready your axe and your shield.

But instead of attacking, the blazes disappear back into the hive.

You stand there, incredulously thinking, ‘What?’

And then the blazes come out again, only this time, they look like they’re holding something. But whatever, you can deal with it.

And then, unexpectedly, weirdly, the blazes shove someone forwards, and your breath catches.

It’s a child. A child, who is a blaze hybrid. A child who looks about six or seven. A child who has been put forth as a _sacrifice_.

You see red.

The air heats up as you mercilessly slaughter the two blazes, because _how dare they_. How dare they use someone as small as the child to save their own hide? 

When all is said and done, you turn to the child, who is looking up at you fearfully. Carefully, slowly, you crouch down, and despite the troubles that might come with it, you extend a hand.

“Do you want to come with me?” you ask in Common, and you hope they understand what you say. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

The child states, wide-eyed. Then, they reach out a tiny hand, and squeeze yours.

Their hand burns. You ignore it. Nothing that can’t be healed by a healing potion, after all.

You awkwardly grab the child. The heat burns against your skin, but the need to make sure the child doesn’t have to suffer anymore (and the way the child winces when you accidentally press against certain parts is evidence enough) than they already have.

You take a deep breath. You down one of your invisibility potions, and give another to the blaze hybrid. Then, the two of you move.

When you reach your home, the child is already asleep, despite the Sun only just starting to set.

Day and Night skitter around your feet as you carefully place the child down on your bed, tucking them in your blankets.

Clementine is making confused chirping noises as you give her and your cats their dinner. You prepare yourself some dinner, with a glass of water and leftover cake.

And when that is said and done, you close your eyes, bury your head in your arms on the table, and let out a muffled scream.

Oh god. You have a child with you.

You don’t have a good track record with kids. Or even family, for that matter.

(Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot. They were already a family, you just wormed your way in like a parasitic being. Did your presence bring them their family’s downfall, or were they always meant to have fallen from the start?)

Day jumps up onto your lap and purrs. You scratch her back idly, and let out a sigh.

You will take care of the child. You will make sure they will be able to protect themselves, if they ever decide to go out on their own.

And you will not make the same mistake as your family.

You go to sleep, and you wake up to a burning house.

When you put it out with a few water buckets, you find the child cowering below your bed.

“No hurt,” they beg, and you have to stop yourself from swearing at whoever dared to hurt them in their past.

“I won’t hurt,” you repeat softly, extending out a hand. “It was an accident that can be fixed. Now come on, you must be hungry.”

Tentatively, the child peeks out from under your bed. “Not angry?”

“Not angry,” you say, even though it will be a pain to replace all the wood that had been burned. “I would never be angry.”

Slowly, the child crawls out. You breathe in a sigh of relief when you see that they are unharmed, even though you know they can’t be harmed by flames anyways.

You lead them to your dining room. Your pets are already there, and your cats immediately gravitate to the child, probably seeking out their warmth.

“It’s okay,” you tell them gently when they flinch back. “They’re just cats. They won’t hurt you, and neither will Clementine.”

“Clementine?” 

“Yeah. My cockatiel,” you point to Clementine, who is perched in front of her food bowl. The child looks fascinated to see a bird. You suppose they haven’t really gotten any chance to see mobs outside of the Nether.

“Pretty,” they say. You smile. Clementine preens at the compliment.

“Yeah, pretty,” you agree. “Take a seat. What would you like to eat?”

The child shrugs. You decide to give them some pork; have they eaten hoglin meat before?

“It’s not much, but I hope you like it,” you say. They hesitantly poke at it with their finger. You don’t force them to use a fork and spoon, because they probably aren’t used to using them anyways.

Day and Night meow for food, so you decide to spoil them a little by giving them some extra bits of fish. It isn’t as if they won’t burn the fat off by running around anyways.

“Thank you,” the child says quietly.

“No need to thank me,” you respond. 

Now that everyone else is eating, you settle down to eat some leftover cake and drink some hot chocolate. At some point, you feel the child’s eyes on you, and when you finish your food, you address it.

“Do you want something?” you ask.

“I…” the child looks startled to be addressed. They frown, and add on quietly. “Who?”

“Oh, you want my name,” you realise. “Uh, I’m TommyInnit, that’s my tag-name. Most people just call me Tommy, though.”

“Tommy,” the child repeats.

“Yeah,” you nod. The atmosphere is kind of awkward, so you hastily continue on. “Uh, I think I’m 17, maybe 18, I’m not really keeping track of the days at the moment. I’m male, and- actually…”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have like… a gender or something?” you say awkwardly.

The child’s nose scrunches up. “Gender?” they repeat.

That’s a no then. You nod.

“Alright, nevermind,” you say. “So I can use ‘they’ and ‘them’ to refer to you?”

The child shrugs. “M’kay. Don’t mind.”

You finish breakfast in relative quietness. When you’re both done, you collect the dishes and wash them. The child watches you all the while.

Finally, you finish that task up, and you turn to the child, offering a small smile. “Would you like me to show you around?”

The child accepts, and your smile grows wider.

You settle into a routine with the child.

In the morning, you wake them up to eat breakfast. You’ve already built them their own room — it’s not big, but the child likes it that way, so you leave it as it is. The child usually sits with the cats, finding them cute, and you let them do so. After that, you usher them to have a bath in the lava pool you had made upon realising that lava is to them as water is to you. 

Both of you change your clothes, and you put them in a basket for laundry for every seventh day. The child gets some of your old clothes, and day by day you start sewing new ones for them.

Then, they help you out with whatever you have to do on that day. Lunch comes, and sometimes they continue helping you, something they split off to play with Day, Night and Clementine.

In the vague time between afternoon and evening, you teach them to write and read. Slowly, the child learns to speak Common better, as well as learning a few bits of Piglin language. The child teaches you words from Blaze language as well. Neither of you are perfect at it yet, but you’re both trying, and that’s good enough.

You eat dinner together, and when night falls, the child showers again and gets an early sleep. Their bedroom is made of inflammable blocks, so there’s no chance of the child burning down the house if they have a nightmare. And even if they somehow do, you wouldn’t ever hold it against them, or punish them for it.

(You know all too well what one might do after a nightmare. You’ve had nightmares, after all.)

It’s routine. It’s one that both of them are comfortable with. But even so, there’s something missing. Something you’re pretty sure is way overdue.

The child needs a name.

You know the child wasn’t given a name, because when you ask them for it, they simply stare at you in confusion, then realisation, then shame.

“No name,” they reply quietly, and you breathe and reassure them that it’s okay, and you try not to think about whoever their birth parents may be.

(Whoever the child’s biological parents may be, you would _hate_ to meet them.)

Names have power. Your full first name is Theseus, and well, look where that brought you. Wilbur’s full first name used to be Wilheim, and his desire to protect led him to his downfall. Technoblade’s name is self-explanatory enough.

Despite the fact that you’re not the child’s father — and you suspect that the child wouldn’t want a father anyways, not with what they have faced — you still want them to have a good name. You want them to have a name that won’t lead them to ruins.

You spend days agonising over it. You flip through books of mythologies and fantasies alike, scour through children’s books, and eventually, you find one that fits. One that will hopefully give the child a happy ending.

“Hey,” you call. The child looks up from a book you vaguely remember writing — just a simple book for the poetry that came to your mind, and nothing more — and frowns.

“Did I do something wrong?” they ask quietly. You shake your head.

“Nothing wrong,” you say. “But I think you should have a name.”

“A name?” they repeat. “You… will give me a name?”

“Well, it’s more up to you if you want to accept it or not,” you laugh nervously. “But, uh, what do you think of the name ‘Ellis’?”

“Ellis,” they say, probably testing the name out. “I am… Ellis?”

“Well, only if you want to be.”

They look back up at you, a determination flaring in their eyes. “I am Ellis,” they say, this time much firmer. “I want to be Ellis.”

You smile. “Okay, you can be Ellis.”

“Ellis Innit?” 

You freeze. “What?”

“Can I be Ellis Innit?”

Ellis looks worried, as if you will refuse to pass on your last name to them. You smile, and try not to cry. 

“Yeah,” you say. “You can be Ellis Innit.”

“What’s the floating name above your head for?” Ellis asks you one day.

You blink, and reach up to feel the slight rush of wind that’s always around your tag-name. “Oh, that’s a tag-name. It’s used for identification, and so that people can’t pretend to be someone they’re not. It’s also necessary in order to get a communicator.”

“But why don’t I have one?” Ellis frowns. 

You’ve seen this problem before. Hybrids are a mixture of mob and player code, which is why they don’t get tag-names the normal way. They usually have to go to an admin and ask to get one.

But the only admins on these lands are ones that you absolutely do not want to ever meet again, so you sigh.

“Sometimes it happens,” you tell them. “But it doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

“But,” Ellis hesitates. “Is… is there any way for me to get one?”

You think back to what you’ve heard of hybrids getting tag-names. Some ways require admins, others require hacking, but there is one particular, if demeaning, way.

“There is one,” you start off slowly. “But it’s really demeaning, and I would never want to make you feel bad.”

“I don’t care,” Ellis says stubbornly. 

You look at them. You sigh. You turn to head to your storage room, where you scour through chests until you find the one object you want. You head back to where Ellis was left, a name tag clutched in your hand.

“A hybrid’s code has aspects of a mob in it,” you explain, dangling the name tag under Ellis’ curious eyes. “So for hybrids, they can technically be named with a name tag. But, just like naming a pet, the name tag can be changed, which is why it’s mostly used for a temporary solution.”

Ellis stares at it, fascinated. “So this will help me with my tag-name until I can get a permanent one?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. I want it.”

By all means, you should talk to them about making up their mind so easily and quickly. But one look at their excited face fades that thought away, and in a matter of moments, a tag-name of ‘EllisInnit’ is floating above Ellis’ head.

The bright smile you get makes it worth it. 

A day later, Ellis’ communicator arrives on their doorstep. You show them how to use it, and warm them to never ever try to text anything in there, to only view and see.

You can’t bear the thought of certain people finding out about their existence.

The first time Ellis calls you ‘Dad’, you mentally shut down for a few minutes.

You’ve been staying with them for a few months already. Things have been peaceful. Recently, you’ve been teaching them about holidays, like Christmas and Father’s Day and Halloween.

Also recently, Ellis has been rather shifty. You don’t think they’ll be doing anything bad, but it’s weird to have a difference in both of your regular routines.

One day, you wake up, and everything seems normal. But when you get to the dining table, Ellis is already there, and they’re standing by the table, shifting nervously.

“Is there something you want to say, Ellis?” you ask them with a frown. “Did something bad happen?”

“No, no! Nothing bad happened!” they hastily say. “Just… you gotta promise not to laugh, okay?”

“Alright,” you chuckle. They walk up to you, and hold out a card.

“This is for you, Dad.” they murmur shyly, handing you the card. Numbly, your mind still processing ‘Dad’, you take it, and open it.

It’s a crude but well-meaning drawing of you and Ellis, holding hands in a flower field. You have an extra arm, and Ellis is much taller than you in the drawing, but it’s sweet.

Below it is written ‘Happy Father’s Day’. And, oh.

“D-Tommy?” Ellis speaks up hesitantly.

“I…” shit, what can you say to something like this? Part of you is panicking because you don’t want to become just like your own father, not wanting to neglect Ellis by accident, unwilling to make the same mistakes as your own father did. Another part of you is tearing up, because oh my god, they just called you ‘Dad’, God is real because there is no way you could’ve been this lucky.

You don’t realise you are crying until Ellis rushes to hug you in a panic, saying something about you having tears on your face.

“-and I’m sorry, I can take this away, I-” you cut them off by hugging them tight, not willing to let them go.

“It’s fine, Ellis,” you say, and you pretend your voice doesn’t crack in the middle of your sentence. “I’m just really happy right now.”

“Oh,” Ellis says. “So… you like the card?”

“Like it? Ellis, I’m going to hang this on the fridge to stare at it forever,” you say. “This is the best thing anyone could’ve gotten me. And you- you can call me Dad. I don’t mind.”

Ellis laughs, shy and quiet. “Uh, thanks. Um, Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

You pretend that there aren’t more happy tears falling from your eyes, and you lead them to the living room to settle in for some book reading, while you head into the kitchen to hang up the drawing.

And if Day and Night and Clementine seem to send you teasing looks after that? Well, that just means you’re imagining things.

“Dad?” 

You pause from your place in the doorway, turning around to look at your child. “Yeah?”

“Can you,” Ellis bites their lip nervously. “Ugh, this is stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid with you,” you move to sit next to their laying form. “Come on, I won’t laugh at you, I promise.”

“Can you sing me a lullaby?” they blurt out. “I don’t… the nightmares-”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ll sing you a lullaby,” you respond gently. “Do you have any songs in mind?”

“Um, can you sing the song that you were singing when you were working on the flower garden?”

For a moment, you freeze. It had been a particularly bad day for you, and while you didn’t outwardly show it, you sang the L’manburg Anthem, which you only really sang on bad days.

(It is part of a history you have left behind, but it is also part of a history that you can never forget, no matter how hard you try.)

But your child will need to learn about your history soon. You make a mental note to get to that, and you smile at Ellis.

“Alright,” you say, and clear your throat.

As Ellis snuggles into their blankets, you start to sing.

_“I heard there was a special place,  
“Where men could go and emancipate,  
“The brutality, and the tyranny,  
“Of their rulers…”_

The first time Ellis dies, you feel your heart nearly stop.

It happens all too suddenly. One moment, you are working with them on building an automatic sugarcane farm, and the next, you hear a scream, and then silence.

You quickly look around, and you see a blaze rod on the ground below, and you immediately rush back down to your house.

Hybrids have a 30% more chance of not respawning after a death. It’s why there’s rarely any hybrids becoming PVP masters and gods, and it’s why people in the likes of Technoblade are so rare to find.

Ellis is sitting up on their bed, looking as disoriented as getting a first death can be, when you burst into their room. You feel your body sag down in relief that your child isn’t dead, that they’re still alive and breathing.

“Dad,” they say, weakly and with a voice so small that you feel your heart crumble.

“Oh, Ellis,” you rush to hug them tightly. “That must’ve been traumatising, huh? But it’ll be okay, I promise you. You’re okay now. You’re with me now.”

“That was bad,” they say shakily. “I don’t- I don’t want to do that again.”

“And I’ll do my best to make sure you won’t have to ever go through a situation like that ever again,” you swear. “You can’t help me out with projects like this, okay? It’s too dangerous for you.”

For once, Ellis doesn’t refuse.

You sit there, hugging your child and letting them hug back for however long they want to. And when you eventually part, just the sight of them still alive and well makes you feel relieved and grateful to whatever gods out there that they haven’t taken yet another person away from you.

But then you look at your communicator, at the chat, and you see the death message, and your heart crumbles once more.

_EllisInnit fell from a high place._

They had a death message appear in chat, where everyone can see. They can see Ellis’ name, can see the ‘Innit’ behind it, and they’ll probably connect the dots, and oh god-

“Dad?” Ellis peers up at you. “Is… is everything alright?”

You put down your communicator. You refuse to look at the chat messages the others have surely sent. You take a shuddering breath in, and hug Ellis.

“Everything will be fine,” you say.

(They know your child exists, they know they exist, it’s another weakness that can be used against you, oh god Dream knows now, this is bad, this is bad, this is so very bad-

No. You have to stay strong for your child. They do not need to worry about the wars you are fighting in. At least, not now.)

“We have to teach you how to fight,” you say aloud. “Ellis, do you want to learn how to fight?”

“With actual swords and axes?” they gasp. You smile, and try not to think about wars and bloodshed.

“With actual swords and axes,” you say.

(You don’t want Ellis to have to fight. You want them to be able to stay peaceful, to live in peace, to not have to partake in bloody wars with no meaning and fights that they will not have a choice in.

But life doesn’t work that way. War follows in you and your family and your friends’ footsteps, and so long as you all live and breathe, war will chase after your steps.

So if Ellis will have to fight, you will do your damn best to make sure they will not have to die untimely deaths again and again. You will make sure they know enough to be safe.

And really, that’s all you can do.)

When Ranboo teleports outside your house, your first instinct is to kill him. Maybe-friend or not, you can’t risk anyone hurting yourself, and especially not Ellis.

“Wait!” he blurts out, holding his hands out. “I’m not here to hurt you! I’m not sure how I got here, actually… but I’m not here to hurt you!”

You stare at him. Conflict wars in your head, but in the end, you’ve always been too forgiving for your own good and safety. You put down your sword and sigh.

“Fine,” you say curtly. “But one wrong move from you…”

“I know, I know,” Ranboo says. You let him in your house, and you pray that it’s not a mistake.

Ranboo seems fascinated by how much you have changed. “I never expected you to have like a… cozy cottagecore aesthetic, y’know?”

“Well,” you shrug. “Time changes people.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Ranboo sighs, looking at you. You’re not sure what he means by that exactly, but you don’t have time to linger on it as Ellis comes running.

“Dad! Dad! I- who’s that?”

“Oh, oh wow,” Ranboo says. “I’ll be honest, all of us back in the main area thought you were a glitch.”

You narrow your eyes. “Ellis is much more than a glitch.”

“I know,” Ranboo says. “Look, I think we got off on a pretty bad foot here. I’m Ranboo.”

Ellis turns to you. You slowly nod. “Ranboo won’t hurt you.”

With that, your child turns to Ranboo, and smiles. “I’m Ellis Innit! I’m seven, and my Dad is the best Dad in the world!”

You feel yourself flushing up as Ranboo chuckles. “Oh, I bet he is.”

“Okay, let’s move this somewhere else,” you interrupt quickly. “Ellis, why don’t you go read some books. I have some stuff to talk with Ranboo about.”

“Okay,” Ellis nods. They head back to the small library you've built when it became clear that there wouldn’t be enough space to hold all the books you have collected. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Ranboo!”

“I didn’t take you for someone to have a child,” Ranboo speaks up. Day and Night, the little shits they are, choose that time to come out of the dining room and run around Ranboo curiously. Clementine chirps from the dining room, not bothering to help corral her cat-siblings. “Or pets like these.”

“Well, I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking,” you let him sit on your couch, and you sit next to him. “But if you get to ask all these questions, I think it’s only fair if I get to ask too. What has been happening since I was gone.”

“Well, for starters,” Ranboo sighs. “Everyone misses you. Uh, we have a grave for you, Dream doesn’t know where you are, nobody’s heard from Technoblade in a while, and things in L’manburg are… they’re kind of tense at the moment.”

“I call bullcrap on that first part,” you say bluntly.

(Why would they ever miss you? You, who started so many wars over petty objects. You, who has only been a thorn on everyone’s side, who doesn’t listen and talks before you think and breaks friendships and relationships as easily as you breathe. You, who has only been good for war and struggles in peace and order and-

No, stop. You aren’t the boy you used to be. You’re better now.)

“I thought you would,” Ranboo sighs. “But it’s the truth.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence before you clear your throat. “Well, do you want food or something?”

“Oh, no no no,” Ranboo says, suddenly flustered. “I wouldn’t want to impose. I teleported here by accident anyways, I just needed some time to recharge. I can go now, I think.”

“You’re leaving?!”

You turn around, startled, as you see Ellis standing by the doorway to the living room. They bite their lip. “But… Mr. Ranboo, you just got here!”

“I mean, I’m kind of imposing on your, uh, father here,” Ranboo starts awkwardly, but Ellis cuts him off.

“Dad, can he stay, please?” they beg. And, well, you have always been soft for your child.

You keep an eye on Ranboo and Ellis as you do your tasks and plan another project. By the end of the day, they’ve bonded over being hybrids afraid of water, and Ellis is practically begging for Ranboo to come back when the older finally leaves.

You will never admit it, but it’s nice to have someone else to talk to.

A year has passed. 

You still can’t quite wrap your head around the idea that it’s been a whole year since you’ve found Ellis, since you took one look at a skinny blaze hybrid and decided to take them back with you. 

Ellis has grown so much since then. They’ve come out of their shell, they’ve experienced things they never would’ve experienced had they stayed in the Nether, they’re happier and brighter than before, and you are so proud of them.

And since you’ve never actually declared an actual birthday for them, and they don’t remember their own birthday, why not make this day their birthday?

So on their birthday, you set up everything carefully. You put party hats on the pets’ heads, and you willingly put one on yourself. You prepare the cake, you prepare the gift, and when everything is done, you sit at the dining table, and you wait.

A few minutes later, Ellis comes stumbling into the kitchen, and blinks when they see everything. “Uh, Dad? What is this?”

“Happy birthday, Ellis,” you respond gently. “I thought that, since today is the day I found you, and you told me you didn’t have a birthday, why not make today your birthday instead?”

Ellis gapes at you. Then at the cake on the table. Then at the present wrapped beside the cake. You see small lava tears start to form on their face. “Those are… for me?”

“Of course!”

Ellis bursts into tears and runs up to you to hug you. You accept the hug, squeezing them back.

“You’re the best dad ever!” they wail, and you pat their back and chuckle and pretend that you aren’t crying yourself.

You cut the cake, and Ellis is all too eager to dive into the cake. You give them their present, which is an enchanted golden apple you picked up from one of your monthly hunts, and it starts another round of tears.

In the afternoon, Ranboo stops by to give Ellis a shield with Unbreaking, with the design made to match Ellis themselves. They’re delighted by it, and they keep it safe in their enderchest.

After that, you settle down with them to read books and paint and sing and play with your pets. All in all, a successful birthday. Ellis is happy, you’re happy, your pets are happy, and you’re all at peace.

It’s nice.

Someday, you will introduce Ellis to everyone else.

Someday, you will get to brag about the child you have raised, the child who has become so kind and strong and powerful in a way that you wished you had been when you were younger.

Someday, your child will be able to lay down their weapons permanently, to not have to fight in a war started from petty fights and battles fought for nothing but glory. They will be able to laugh around with the friends they will make, and you will be proud of who they have managed to become.

Someday, you will look at Ellis and not have to worry about them becoming the man that you once were.

But for now, there is you, there is Ellis, there are your pets, and there is a bright future ahead of you.

**Author's Note:**

>  _“I study war and diplomacy, so that my son may study trade and commerce, so that his son may study art and music.”_  
>  \- J. Adams
> 
> john adams might suck but this quote doesn’t
> 
> I hope you liked it! Once again, an au of an au if you didn’t see the tag, so this isn’t in the ‘main storyline’, so to speak.
> 
> also, in case you were wondering, Ellis doesn’t really have a label for their gender. They just use they/them pronouns. If I somehow accidentally typed another pronoun for them, please tell me, because I don’t mean to do that!


End file.
